"You didn’t."
I took a step forward.
Rick pressed himself against the wall.
I put myself in his face. "I fucking did. And don’t think I wouldn’t do the same to you if I thought you deserved it." I stepped back. "Tom? Can you come in?"
Rick’s jaw dropped. "Tom? Not… Tom? Dead Tom?"
"Well they tried their best, but I’m going to be okay, no thanks to you."
"What did I…"
Rick tailed off as Rich stood to one side to let Tom into the hall. He had stripped down to his boxers. He hadn’t been a big man before, but his days left in tortured isolation meant his body was quite literally skin and bones. Above his ribs you could see older yellowing bruises dotted between fresh and vicious red welts from the beatings he had endured. It was an entry that would jar anyone.
"You didn’t raise a finger to me. But you brought Gordon here, and you guarded him and Austin whilst they did this to me. Why wouldn’t you ask what was going on? Why would you just stand outside a wrecked house in the middle of nowhere and think that was okay?"
"I… I was just following orders… I didn’t… I had no idea what they were doing, I swear!" Rick’s eyes were flying up and down, then looking anywhere but Tom’s decimated body. "Oh my God. What did they do? What are they doing?"
"That’s not the worst of it, Rick."
I grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him bodily into the front room. I pushed him down onto a chair. Isabelle was still hiding. I called to her, knowing I would be able to coax her out if it was just Rick.
"It’s okay, it’s just Uncle Rick. He’s come to take us home."
Isabelle crept out on her hands and knees and sat cross-legged in the middle of the room looking at us both. She was wary of Rick. Good girl.
"Are we really going home?"
"I don’t know. I didn’t say that. Warren and Rich aren’t allowed there anymore."
Isabelle made an angry face. "Why not?"
I interrupted. "Tell him how you got here Isabelle. And what Uncle Gordon and Uncle Oz were saying to you. It’s okay. It’s an important story. Then he can take us home."
Isabelle went through her story with simple confidence. She didn’t know the implications of the words that left her young lips. At first, I held Rick down in the chair. He was tense and ready to run at any second. The longer she went on, the limper he felt under my hand. His shoulders started to slump and his spine started to curl as he sank into a huddle. I saw a tear sneak out of the corner of his eye when she repeated Gordon’s ominous words.
"What have I been doing?" he asked.
"Make it right. Get us back in there. People have to know what the people in charge have been hiding from us. This isn’t all."
Rick turned to me. His eyes were red and full of desperation. "What could be worse than this?"
"They’ve been owning us. We’re their herd. We haven’t been abandoned. There is a massive community in the south-west, taking over the Devonshire coast. They have military help, Rick. We’re actually fighting back against this thing. We’re weak out here. We’re vulnerable. But we’re theirs. And this," I waved my arms around, "is what they’re building whilst they’re keeping us blind. We’re their playthings, Rick. Literally."
"Oh, Isabelle, I’m so sorry," Rick said.
"You shouldn’t be the one saying sorry. Yet still, she’s not the only one that’s been hurt," I said.
"Is Austin really," his eyes flicked to Isabelle and he gulped, "gone?"
I nodded. "What I said to you in the hall. True."
"What can I do to make this right? Fucking hell you must hate me."
"It’s bad to swear," Isabelle said.
"Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you into the kitchen. You need to eat a little before we go home."
Rich scooped her up. She started squealing at the possibility of more chocolate. With her out of earshot, I went through our plan with Rick. "How many people are against me and Rich?"
"Honestly? A lot of people were pissed off when he made the announcement. Pissed off and shocked. Your house? Rob, Carla, that South African guy? They were getting ready to jump over the wall and go after you. Karen spoke sense and kept them back, but she looked very bloody angry. You’ve got a lot of allies, and Rich has more. So if you’re worried about being torn apart as soon as you get in there, well, you don’t need to worry about that."
"What about the gates?"
"That’s the only secure part of the compound. We all know that. That’s how he managed to get the excuse to get rid of you in the first place. How are you getting in?"
"They know you. They know your car. We just lie in the back and you drive through the gates."
"You think we can get Godzilla hidden in the back of my car? I’m not so sure. One of you, definitely. Two might be a squeeze."
"We don’t have to squeeze all the way. Just on the approach. Shit, I’ll get in the boot if I have to. Once we’re through the gates, we’ll sneak out and get to our house. Group people together, then get a riot going in the centre of the community. Where Gordon would usually get on his soapbox, we’ll stand up and tell people the truth."
"And it’s going to be your word against theirs? How are you going to make that carry?"
"There’s a broadcast that goes out. There’s a reason they’re blocking all electricity and noise in that compound. No noise? No radios. We just turn on a radio, tune in, and let everyone hear the message for themselves. The message and Isabelle’s story. People could try and call me a liar; I’d like to see them try the same thing on a girl that young. She didn’t even meet Austin.
"What I need to know is, after the gate, what resistance are we going to meet? Are they going to come at us with guns?"
"Like I said, you have a lot of friends in that place. There are going to be a lot of bodies between you and anyone trying to shut you up. It sounds like a shit plan if I’m being honest, but I can’t think of anything better. We don’t exactly have many resources on hand to let people know, do we? Can’t bus everyone out here."
"So you’re going to help us then?"
"I wouldn’t say no, even if I could. I already feel like… I can’t tell you. You must think I’m a right knob."
"I can think of better words." I looked him in the eye, and felt a surging desire to be blunt. "We’re not friends, Rick. We never were. And nothing you do now can change that, really."
"I know. It wasn’t pretty trying to pretend, either. Let’s just get to a point where we don’t want to spit on each other in the street. Agreed?"
I shook the proffered hand. "We’re not far off that anyway. Now."
* * *
The atmosphere in the car was almost jovial. We spent time finding the channel we’d need to get the broadcast out there, and I found a pen in the glove box to write it down. I tore a strip out of the car’s service booklet, jotted down the frequency, and shoved it in my pocket. Rick listened to the firm words of the announcement three times, suppressing vehement swearing each time to spare Isabelle’s tender ears.
"Why the hell couldn’t we have heard that when we were scanning the channels?"
"Would have been a much longer drive, that’s for sure."
"And we’d have probably still ended up with a torture house."
"Not funny."
"What’s a torture house?"
Isabelle brought us all back down to earth again, and we remained in silence until we neared the community again. We had done a test run, and I was having to keep good by my word, and climb in the boot. Tom wasn’t a marked man, and Rick was pretending he’d found him wandering the wilderness. The young lad looked in a poor enough condition for that to be truth. They both pushed their seats forward. Isabelle hid in the footwell by Tom’s feet, and Rich went down on to the footwell behind the front seats and in front of the rear passenger seats. He was covered in a blanket, and he’d be supplies if anyone asked. For effect, we moved some bits and pieces of plunder from the boot on to
the rear seats. Tom was wrapped in a blanket. That would hide Isabelle from view. It was a comedy, in keeping with much of our survival so far.
My pulse quickened as the boot clicked shut. The air was immediately stuffy, and the world outside muffled and distant. I was in here voluntarily. Austin must have been petrified in his last hours before I abandoned him to be devoured on a country road in the dead of night. For a short breath, I felt sorry for him.
I kept a firm vision of Isabelle’s face in my mind.
Weakness was not an option at this point. Men like Gordon and Austin were beginning to thrive because weak people let them. Well, we were beginning to stand up to that. I had nearly lost my sister once because I had been late to take action. I was not going to be responsible for the deaths of more innocent people because I didn’t have the balls to react to what I saw before it was too late. Though for now, our fate was out of my hands and in the keeping of someone I had found wanting more than once on our journey so far. We were trusting Rick to get us through the gates. It was a risk. Both Rich and I had always known, whoever arrived at that house, we’d have to trust to get us through the gates. The weight of the stories we had were always going to work in our favour, but Rick? He had shown me more than one reason to treat his so-called friendship with kid gloves. Still, what choice did we have? Could we try to fight our way through the gates? That would put at risk the innocent lives we were trying to save.
I bounced around the boot as we ran over a couple of potholes in the road. We weren’t travelling quickly, all thanks be to whatever deity kept an eye on me these days. The car came to a stop and I heard some banter outside. The voices weren’t loud. Whilst that meant I hadn’t a clue what was being said, it also meant there was neither alarm nor panic at what was being seen. So far so good.
I heard the mechanical noise of a gate being shifted, and the car lurched into gear and onwards. Doors opened and closed. There were exclamations as someone recognised Tom or Isabelle, I’m not sure which, and came running. The clock was ticking. As soon as Gordon heard that Tom was back in the community, he’d know something was wrong with his playhouse and come looking. We needed to have people on our side by then.
The noise died down and I sat in the stifled darkness, waiting. My next move was dependent on both Rich and Rick. Rick’s job was to get the car to a safe location and draw people away from us. Rich’s job was to judge when the time was good, and get us both away from the car and to my house.
The waiting was absolute agony. My heart wouldn’t slow, and it wasn’t being helped by the incredibly poor oxygen supply. I hadn’t meant to be shut in here for very long, so we hadn’t left the boot latch open. I was beginning to regret that. What if we didn’t get a clear route out before it became too late and I suffocated? How long could someone safely stay in a boot, anyways? Why hadn’t I thought of asking all of this before volunteering to be stuffed in an enclosed space formerly occupied by a man I had executed, that stank of damp and mothballs and, when I actually concentrated on it, dried urine? I wrinkled my nose, started breathing through my mouth and tried not to vomit. I felt seasick, my stomach lurching uncontrollably, until I realised that it was the car moving around. Was Rich finally making his move? I hoped so. I hadn’t heard any other voices, so I sincerely doubted there was anyone else snooping around the car. A door latch opened, and after a few minutes I felt more than heard it click closed. If someone was trying to be stealthy—though with someone Rich’s size that was a challenging and amusing feat in and of itself—then someone was coming to get me.
I was greeted within a minute with a further click, and a rushing of sweet oxygen into my little cabin. The boot didn’t open very much, and a voice whispered through the opening to me.
"It’s starting to get dark. Never thought I’d have anything to thank the British winter hours for, but here it is. Tom’s been taken away. I don’t know how long it’s going to take for word to spread to Gordon, but I’m guessing it won’t be long. There’s no one near the car. I’m going to head for your house now, along the back gardens. Leave it a minute and follow me. Try to pick a different route though. If we’re both going the same way and we’re spotted, they’ll pick us off easily if we’re following each other."
"Okay. Just go. You’ll be standing out like a sore thumb at the minute."
I heard his feet go. The boot was left open, the precious oxygen trickling in to tickle my cheeks. It was a blissful minute of peace as I waited for my turn to run. In no world could I ever consider lying in the piss-stained boot of a car waiting to sprint home to start a rebellion in our bastion of humanity amongst a zombie apocalypse normal. It was, however, a restful moment, and I felt an uncommon sense of clarity and calm.
Would I be safer in plain sight? Just stroll up the street and hope I didn’t stumble across Gordon or Travis? Rick had claimed that we had friends here. Could I trust that? Rich had said not to follow him, and he had already elected to go fence-hopping across the gardens. What other route could I possibly take? A sketchy mental picture of the community sprang to mind. I tried jumping from place to place, remembering who lived where, and which people had been particularly friendly, compared to those who had been indifferent. I couldn’t remember anyone that had been hateful towards me, aside from Gordon. And, disappointingly, Rick.
I thought about it again. Running up the street would be plain foolhardy. But the community wasn’t large. Had Rich taken the keys with him? Because the damned easiest thing would be to just get in the driver’s seat and take two minutes driving up to where I needed to be. I would definitely draw a bit of attention to myself, but no one would be able to keep up with me, or react in time to stop me from getting to where I needed to be. Gordon’s house was on the other side of the community. The furore surrounding Tom’s reappearance would be driving all the attention to that side of our little world.
Despite it being the worst thing you can do when preparing for a tight situation, I took two or three huge breaths. Blood rushed to my head. My pulse had already been accelerated. The advice was right—I wasn’t doing myself any favours. As I went to push myself up, the bloodrush set me back down again. Well shit, sitting around in a boot then making myself near hyperventilate wasn’t a great idea. After another minute, I took a more normal route out of the boot; well as normal as I could make that kind of thing. I lifted the hood gently, looking out for any sign of movement. Seeing nothing, I clambered out and sidled around the car and into the driver’s seat. Win. Of course, why would you bother taking the keys to a communal car stuck behind locked gates? What’s someone going to do? Steal it? I gleefully twisted the keys and couldn’t resist a quick rev of the engine before I pulled off and up the road. The sweet reminders of our palatial homes swung past me. I reminded myself they weren’t homes. They were prisons. Gordon and Travis had picked their hiding place well. So many normal people lived here. Why would you question the motives of your rulers when you were living in what you had previously perceived to be luxury? The only price Gordon exacted from people was in obedience and in silence. Such was the way of a plutocracy. Gordon had the power, and no one questioned this.
Outside the house, there was already a crowd waiting for me. As it turned out, Rich had been caught halfway home. Alistair had spotted him and word had flown around that house, and each one up to our own residence. Thirty people waited on the front lawn, and I pulled up like the Lord of the Manor coming to greet his people. It felt preposterous. They all leaned up as I arrived, eager to see me, to hear what I had to say. I hit the brakes harder than I intended. The car squeaked to a stop and I limped out, still waiting for the blood to return to my cramped limbs.
Carla ran to me first and threw herself at me quite literally. I returned her tight hug with genuine heart, enclosing her in my arms and squeezing her as much as I could without hurting her.
"I didn’t think I’d see you again. Again."
"I’m trying not to make a habit of it."
"Well try fucking hard
er."
I squeezed again. "It’s a promise."
She let me go, though she seemed reluctant to do so. I was too, until I saw who was in line to take her place. Karen looked unsure of herself, hugging her arms around her middle, but she did shuffle forward a couple of steps when Carla left my side. My sister saw the other woman’s hesitancy and with a grin, shoved her forward. I gave her what I hoped was a heart-warming grin. It seemed to work. Her hands dropped and she opened her arms out to me. She was timid, so I smothered her with what I hoped was an embrace full of emotion. It was so much that. I had missed Karen, almost as much as I had missed Carla. Her hot breath tickled my ear. She whispered one light sentence to me before retreating.
"I thought I was alone."
I wanted to keep hold of her, to let her know that she wasn’t alone; that even if I had died, Carla and all of our friends would have been able to look out for her. Her eyes though, her sullen look that met me before she turned away, told me more than any words, that no one would be replacing me in those affections any time soon.
"What’s happening, Warren?"
It was Rob’s voice that shouted out. His sentiments were followed by murmurings from everyone else. Rich shouted them down. They mutely followed his lead, as they had already done for so many weeks. I shuddered under the glare of sixty eyes. I knew what they wanted from me. I had been rehearsing this in my head. At the critical moment, I was suffering from intense stage fright.
There were a few bored coughs as they waited for my story to begin. I had planned on ploughing straight into the action. Telling them about the broadcast and with a bloodcurdling yell, corralling them all to rebel against their leaders. I opened my mouth three times to begin this rehearsed performance, but each time the words felt wrong against my lips, the speech sour on my tongue.
Great Bitten (Book 2): Survival Page 27